Judgement: Impaired
by Greenstuff
Summary: He'd had partners before. Male, female, rookies, veterans… but none had ever managed to get to him the way she did...  Starts in the last few minutes of Episode 5. Sam/Andy  Rating increased to T for violence and some language
1. Prologue

**Judgement: Impaired**

Boyko's blue eyes were filled with the type of calm Sam had lost his grip on; the unshakeable calm that until three weeks ago had made him one of the best cops in the division. A calm he desperately needed right now.

He'd had partners before. Male, female, rookies, veterans… but none had ever managed to get to him the way she did from the first moment she tackled him to the pavement in an alleyway and eight month's work became worthless in seconds. Andy, with her proud grin refusing to be concealed as she dragged in her first collar, had slid under his skin and made a home among his blood vessels. .

"Like I said, sir, it's my fault." Sam said, for what felt like the hundredth time since some cruel trick of fate decided McNally's Rookie punishment should be partnership with the undercover officer she'd exposed on her first day out of the barn.

"My gun wasn't loaded." Andy's voice cut through the air like a bullet.

For a moment Sam forgot how to breathe. His heart lurched for a second before finding a new rhythm; half again its normal speed.

"Forgot to load my gun this morning."

He sucked in a silent breath and thanked God and all of his lucky stars she was still alive. And that he hadn't known until right now. He'd been so eager to get away from her. So angry at her for Callaghan he wouldn't have thought twice about leaving her completely alone at the house just so he could distance himself from the jealousy that threatened to overwhelm him.

"You're not the first," Boyko said after a long pause.

Sam couldn't stop the smile that crept over his face. There'd been a rookie in his first year at 15 who'd forgotten to load his gun three days in a row, poor Tarjeet Singh had earned the nickname "Target" and a desk job in Surrey.

"It happens." Boyko continued, "That's why you have a partner."

Sam cast a pointed look at Andy's profile. When she darted a quick, apologetic look over her shoulder he smiled, just enough to convey silent forgiveness. Yes she'd screwed up; she was a rookie, it was practically in the job description.

Not that this knowledge did anything to lessen his urge to strangle her.

She could have been killed. She could have stood there with a bulletless gun and watched a scared twenty-two year old kid shoot his own stepfather. He wasn't sure which was worse.

Boyko dismissed them with little more than a flip of his hand. Sam was first out the door, moving quickly, as if he could out walk the sustained thrum of anxiety in his veins.

He made it as far as the water cooler before he had to stop and beckon McNally closer. Nash's anxious face and the ominous click of Boyko's office door behind her overrode his desire to get as much distance as possible from his rookie before he lost his cool.

Andy's face was guarded as she came to stand in front of him. She kept her back stiff and her chin high, strong, stubborn, aloof, protected from the world. He took a deep breath and pushed his recently acquired knowledge of Mrs. McNally (well, probably not McNally if she'd abandoned her alcoholic husband and only daughter fourteen years earlier and never looked back).

"Let me tell you something about partners ok?" he said, holding her gaze, "You back 'em up, no matter what."

"I know that."

"You know that?" He fought back a desire to shake her. "So why'd you let Nash dangle back there? Boyko's going to be very unhappy."

"Yeah, well she-" Andy protested, the guilt in her eyes conflicting with the blame in her tone,

"Yeah, you knew she was leaving right? You must have told her it was ok." His words were tripping over each other as he leaned in. "Look," he took a quick breath and forced himself to slow down before he said or did something he couldn't come back from. "I get it, ok? What you said to that kid. Your mother left you. You felt abandoned. Now you want to stand alone, but in this job, you can't do it alone. You have to have each other's back. You stand behind your partner, always."

She nodded once before pushing past him. Her expressive dark eyes, the reason she would never make it on an undercover op, flashed guilt but no anger.

He let her go. She had a decision to make. And if he knew Andy McNally half as well as he thought he did, she would need a few minutes alone to figure out what to say to Boyko.

a/n: This is pretty much writing itself at this point. There will be at least two more parts to this. Please review :D


	2. Chapter 1

Sam had never really liked Detective Callaghan. The blonde man was too smooth. He lacked the roughness that Sam and so many of his co-workers relied on to survive. There was something inherently wrong about laugh lines on a homicide detective.

Since Andy's arrival, passive distaste had grown to active dislike. He told himself it was the way Callaghan seemed unfazed by ugly death and heartbroken families, but a small, obnoxious voice told him otherwise. He certainly hadn't missed the way Callaghan undressed McNally with his eyes, or the softness of her eyes when the blonde detective smiled in her direction.

He didn't mention Callaghan's womanizing tendencies to Andy again. He was her training officer, not her guard dog. Besides, she didn't seem to care what he thought about it anyway, at least not judging by the gooey eyed stares he'd witnessed in week since he'd found out they were sleeping together. The idea still turned his stomach. She was too good for him.

Too good for Sam too, if he were perfectly honest; something he avoided whenever possible these days.

Boyko had decreed that Sam continue to train McNally after the incident a week earlier. The chief seemed determined to make Swarek take a partner on permanently, and had gotten into his head that the best way to condition the former undercover agent to the presence of someone else in his squad car was by assigning him sole responsibility for the training of a specific rookie. Either that or the man had a sadistic streak and enjoyed the idea of sticking Swarek with the women who'd destroyed what was potentially a career making piece of undercover work. Either way they were stuck with one another for the time being, and despite his protestations, Sam couldn't bring himself to really mind.

She was going to be a hell of a cop. Once the shiny newness that made her stick out like a sore thumb in every situation wore off and a little cynicism sunk. He knew she would be better off then, and yet he couldn't let go of a selfish desire to protect her from the harsh realities of life as a Toronto City Police Officer. Division 15 was a rough and tumble world of drugs, sex and death. The sooner a rookie learned that truth, the longer they would last. And the darker their world would be.

"You ready to roll?" He asked when he was still ten feet away from his partner.

She was leaning with one shoulder resting against the wall, chatting with Nash, a huge smile on her face. The smile disappeared as she snapped to attention. "Yes sir." She responded automatically.

He wished she would call him Sam again. Some time when she wasn't letting a perp run off, and he wasn't being mauled by a German Sheppard. "Let's go."

He meant what he said, she wasn't his type. But she was a part of him. In the way an ingrown toenail is a part of your foot. Each time you've nearly convinced yourself that it's gone, that you're back to your old unhindered self, something happens and a flare of pain reminds you the nail is still ingrown. Unlike a nail however, Sam was powerless to rip her out of his flesh. He considered it once - burning her out of him with a single night of white hot need pounded out between cheap cotton sheets. But even he wasn't that stupid. So he leaned into the pain with a wry smile on his face and taught her everything he knew about being a damn fine cop.

She wasn't his type. It should never have been McNally. It should have been Peck. She was his type; gorgeous, cool as a cucumber and clearly interested. And yet, he found Peck irritating and McNally had become the drug he couldn't resist. No matter that she had been inches from him and pulled away when he could have drowned all his frustrated hopes in her eyes, her pink lips. No matter if she "didn't date cops". It was McNally, who bounced a little like an overexcited puppy when she got to flip on the sirens, whose nearness dazed him.

"You're driving," he said, tossing her the keys to their cruiser.

Her eyes lit up and that grin burst forth despite her best attempt to quell it with an appropriate sombre expression. "Really?"

"You _can_ drive, right?" He teased.

She snorted, "Of course."

"Well then…" he slapped the top of the car and swung himself into the passenger seat.

"Thanks Sa-sir."

The slip brought a smile to his face. "Let's go, McNally. Unless you've figured out a way to drive without actually being in the car, perps don't book themselves."

"Pull over," Sam instructed as Andy guided the police car along Dundas St.

"Here, sir," Andy asked, her incredulity clear in both voice and face as she entered the Mutual St intersection.

Sam grinned. "After the intersection will be fine."

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance and Sam's grin doubled in size. She was so serious and so much fun to rile up. He waited until she's parked the car between a silver Honda Civic and a delivery van before pointing to the Coffee Time. "I like my coffee like I like my women, hot and naked." He said with a smirk.

"You're kidding me." Andy turned off the engine and then swung around so she could glare at him properly. "You're sending me for coffee?"

He shrugged. "I let you drive."

Muttering something Sam was pretty sure he was happy not to hear properly, Andy exited the car and disappeared into the coffee shop. Five minutes later she returned with two coffee cups and a brown paper bag.

She handed him the coffee, but kept the bag hostage. "You can have this on one condition," she told him, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Sam raised one eyebrow.

"I get to drive all week."

Sam raised the other eyebrow.

"Until Friday?" she tried.

"Today and tomorrow." He conceded.

A grin lit up her face for a few seconds before she managed to school her features back into professional boredom. "Here. It's Boston Cream."

"My favourite."

"I know."

Sam took a sip of his coffee to hide the smile he couldn't suppress. His traitorous mind wondered if she knew Callaghan's favourite too. But he managed to drown the thought in sugary coffee.

Sam had just taken the first bite of delicious, cream filled doughnut when the radio crackled to life.


	3. Chapter 2

_Sam had just taken the first bite of delicious, cream filled doughnut when the radio crackled to life. _

"211 in progress at Sam's Food Store, 236 Sherbourne Street. Closest unit please respond."

Sam noticed Andy's grip on the steering wheel tighten even as he spoke into the radio, "1505, four blocks westf, on our way." to dispatch and flipped on the siren. "Step on it McNally." He said; a rush of adrenalin singing through his veins as she swung the car out into the street.

Moments later the cruiser slammed to a halt in front of Sfam's Food Store. The irony of the name was not lost on Sam.

Taking half a second to make sure they had ammunition in their weapons and power to their radios, Andy and Sam climbed out of the vehicle and moved in tandem to the front entrance. Motioning for her to stay down, he peered through the glass storefront. A large display of half price Cheeseburger Doritos blocked his view of the cash register. He cursed inwardly.

There was no other choice but to go in blind.

One hand on his standard issue Glock 22, Sam pushed the door open and entered the store. "Police! Everybody freeze." He shouted, scanning the space rapidly for a glimpse of the armed robber.

A scared girl, not a day over 16, stood behind the counter, hands in the air. The register beside her left elbow hung open, the ceiling lights off the inside of its empty drawer. "Which way did he go?" Sam asked, drawing his gun and settling it against his palm.

The girl pointed towards the back of the store. There were at least three ways a person hiding back there could get to the front door, and no way he and McNally could effectively cover all of them. "McNally," he kept his voice calm through sheer willpower. "Cover the door."

"Yes sir." Her voice was steady, confident.

'_Were you scared in there?'_

'_Yeah. You?'_

"_No… I mean...you were there." _

The conversation from weeks earlier echoed through Sam's brain as he crept towards the back of the store, gun preceding body around each corner. Around a display of Snowballs and Twinkies he caught a glimpse of a red headed man wearing a dark green t-shirt and jeans.

"Police! Hands in the air!"

The man froze in a crouch and Sam advanced on him, steadily, gun still outstretched. The man looked terrified but considering he'd robbed the cash register of the small grocery store in the middle of the day and was reportedly armed made Sam cautious.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," he warned as he closed in on the man.

When Sam was still a body length away the thief lunged sideways and rolled into the next aisle. He sprinted in a low run towards the front entrance, the knife he'd concealed in his pocket flashed with each pump of his right arm.

Sam took off after him, but hit shoes skidded on the linoleum and he hit the ground hard. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder he pushed to his feet and continued the chase.

"Police!" Andy yelled, planting her feet and pointing her gun at the man who had so suddenly evaded her partner and who was now barrelling towards her like a bull. "Freeze!"

The man didn't even slow. Before Andy could decide to pull the trigger he was upon her, tackling her to the ground. The knife in his hands sliced through her blue shirt just beneath the line of her bullet proof vest and slid into the soft flesh of her belly like it was hot butter. She screamed.

Sam heard Andy scream when he was still out of sight. His stomach clenched and he forced his body to move more quickly. There was a man leaning over her, he was tall and dressed in dark clothing. His hands were pressed against her stomach and she was thrashing against him.

Driven by fear and pure instinct, Sam slammed into him from the side, throwing him off Andy's prone form. Not allowing his brain a chance to think about what he was doing, Sam followed the tackle with a solid fist to the man's nose before cuffing him to the doorframe.

In under a minute he was kneeling next to McNally, A quick once over told him she had at least two stab wounds to the abdomen and they were deep. Her face was pale and her dark brown eyes filled with agony. "Oh God, Sam." She moaned when he pressed her hands against the wounds to slow the steady flow of blood.

"I know it hurts, but you gotta keep pressure on there, ok?"

She bit her lip and he felt her hands press down more firmly. Keeping one hand on McNally the entire time, he snapped orders at the terrified store clerk to bring him something, anything, to stop the bleeding as he fumbled with one shaking hand for the button on his radio.

"Officer down. I need EMS on scene at 236 Sherbourne st." He barked.

When the Ambulance arrived four minutes later, McNally was unconscious and Sam's eyes had a dangerously glassy quality to them. He'd managed to shut down his emotions completely within seconds of tackling McNally's attacker, but only by refusing to let his mind engage in anything more than counting her shallow breaths.

Smith and Epstein arrived on the heels of the paramedics and loaded the handcuffed man into the back of their cruiser, deaf to his pleas of innocence.

Smith pulled Sam's keys out of Andy's side pocket and tossed them to Epstein. "Drive straight back to the barn. You get so much as a scratch on that thing and you're never driving on my watch again. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Epstein's face was pale, but his hands were steady.

The EMTs did their best to pack McNally's wounds, hooked her up to oxygen and had her loaded in the back of the ambulance in under three minutes. Their practiced motions and calm demeanours were a balm to Sam's panicked soul. When they asked him if he was riding in the front or the back he climbed in next to his partner, slid far enough up the bench to be out of the way, and took her cool, limp hand in both of his.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Not to McNally, not on his watch. He was supposed to protect her. _To Serve and Protect_. It was their goddamn motto and he'd failed. _You have your partner's back, no matter what. _His only rule; and he'd shattered it.

They should have waited for backup. She was a rookie, she was talented, but there was more to the job than talent. She was brave, maybe too brave for her own safety, but he'd seen fear in her eyes too. She'd never shot anyone before, and here he'd thrown her into a situation where shooting was quite possibly the only answer without even a warning. They should have set up a perimeter and waited for backup. He squeezed her hand tightly and fought to shut down his thoughts, it was done. There was nothing more he could do.

"She'd a fighter." The paramedic said, settling beside Sam, having done all he could for her wounds until they reached the hospital. "She's lost a lot of blood, but we've started an IV already and they're clearing a room for surgery in case we need it."

Sam nodded, his brain latching on to the hope he heard in the paramedic's words. Andy would be ok, she had to be. If she wasn't...

_No._

_She. Would. Be. Fine._


	4. Chapter 3

The emergency room at Toronto General Hospital was surprisingly empty when the paramedics wheeled McNally through the automatic double doors. Sam was quickly shooed to the waiting area with the assurance "We'll let you know as soon as we know."

He collapsed into a floral print chair between an elderly woman wearing an oxygen tank, knitting a pair of booties, and a sullen teen listening to death metal at a volume that would not be contained by his headphones. He buried his head in his hands, leaning forward so his aching eyes stared down at the tops of his shoes.

Shoes that were streaked with blood.

He leapt up and just made it to the garbage before the Boston Cream doughnut and coffee he'd shared with McNally that morning came spewing back out of his mouth. "Sir?" a petite blonde nurse in yellow and pink scrubs handed him a damn cloth and waited until he'd cleaned off his face before informing him in gentle voice. "Andy is going in to surgery right now. There's damage to her kidneys and maybe her spleen as well. If you like I can show you the way to the operating waiting room, the Doctor will update you as soon as we know anything more."

_Surgery._ Sam took two steps in the direction the nurse had turned and then came to a halt. _He knew he would lose her someday, probably to Callaghan, but it wasn't going to be today and it wasn't going to be like this. It couldn't be. _He gasped for air. The waiting room walls seemed to close in around him and getting oxygen was like trying to breathe freely in a vacuum. He had to get out of there. "I'm sorry..." he turned 180 degrees and made a beeline for the exit.

He started to run the second his feet hit the pavement outside the ER. No destination in mind he sprinted as if hell itself was biting at his heels, driven by adrenalin and a need to put as much distance between himself and Toronto General Hospital. He ran full out, not noticing or caring about the strange looks from pedestrians, until his breath came in desperate, ragged gasps. A mile away from the hospital he slowed to a jog, long even strides, letting the pounding rhythm of his feet on the pavement wipe out any thoughts. Each step beat out a single tattoo. _She. Will. Be. Fine. She. Will. Be. Fine. She. Will. Be. Fine._

When he was too exhausted to take another step he leaned against a mailbox and hailed a cab. If the driver thought it was strange to see an out of breath, blood stained cop flagging down a taxi, he did an admirable job of hiding it. "Where to?" Sam gave his address and slumped back against the dingy grey seat.

The cab ride was over too quickly. He threw a twenty at the driver not bothering to wait for change and dragged his sorry self up the stairs to his third floor apartment. He shucked his uniform and tossed it carelessly on the floor by his bed. The part of his brain that was able to process ideas in a semi logical manner reminded him that the blood would come out best now, and if he left it too long it wouldn't come out at all. He scooped up the whole lot, shoes and all, leaving only his belt, gun and radio and threw it in his kitchen sink. He flipped the tap on to cold and let it run.

He probably looked ridiculous, standing naked in his kitchen, watching his sink fill with cold water that rapidly turned pink as it soaked through the dirty fabric; he didn't have the energy to care. When the sink was nearly overflowing he turned the water off and headed for the shower.

Twenty minutes later he was clean, dry and dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple white shirt. He slipped his Glock into an ankle holster and pocketed his wallet. His cell phone showed seven missed calls.

He listened to each, deleting them one at a time until he got to the fourth message. It was from Boyko and it settled like ice in the pit of his stomach.

"Swarek, where the hell are you? The store clerk says the guy you collared isn't the one. What the hell happened over there? Call me."

Sam stood frozen as the next three messages, all from the station wondering where he'd disappeared to, played into his ear. Andy was in the hospital, having surgery because he'd let a perp get away, and they hadn't even got the right guy.

It wasn't possible.

He'd seen the man, looming over her. She'd been fighting him, hadn't she? His brain stuttered as he tried to recall the scene. The perp was wearing dark colours. Green maybe? What had the man he'd cuffed worn?

Sam didn't know. His mind refused to fill in the blanks. All he could see when he closed his eyes and tried to picture the scene was Andy. Her pale face, the steadily growing pool of her blood on the white and green linoleum, and her dark eyes pleading with him to make the pain stop.

She wasn't his type, but he cared about her. More than he'd cared about anyone in a long time. And she'd been hurting. It was all he'd been able to see. All he could comprehend. And now he may have assaulted and arrested an innocent bystander. A man tried to help in a time of crisis and Sam rewarded him by tackling him to the ground, breaking his nose and cuffing him to a door.

_Serve, protect, and don't screw up._ He snorted. _Yeah, right._

A/N: Thanks for the love everyone! I am trying to get this finished before the new episode on Thursday. Please keep the reviews coming :D


	5. Chapter 4

Sam took a cab from his apartment directly to the station, still in jeans and a t-shirt with his gun at his ankle and his belt and radio dangling from one hand. He knew he should be at the hospital, but the thought of sitting in a waiting room doing nothing while a doctor sliced into McNally and try to stitch her up makes him feel queasy. He pushed through the front door, hard enough that it smashed into the wall.

Nash, who was sitting behind the desk, jumped at the noise. When she saw who it was she stood and rushed over to him. "Sir, how is Andy?"

Sam ignored her and kept moving. He slammed into the interrogation and ran right into Callaghan. "Where is he?" It came out as a growl.

Callaghan held up both hands, "Slow down, Swarek. We've got this."

Sam tried to push past the detective, but Callaghan moved to intercept him.

"Boyko was looking for you. Why don't we head on up there now?"

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way." Sam fought to maintain his cool.

"Don't do this man," Callaghan placed a restraining arm on Sam's shoulder. "We all want to catch him, but you've already got the wrong guy once. Why not let someone else—"

The rest of his sentence was lost as Sam grabbed him by both shoulders and pushed him against the wall so he could step past. He found the right interrogation room on the second try. Jerry Barber stood before the two-way mirror watching while Erico questioned the tall blond man.

"Sam!" Jerry, clapped him on the shoulder. "How's McNally?"

Sam shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. Guilt flooded him, what if she woke up and no one was there? _She's in surgery, _he reminded his guilty conscience, _the best thing you can do is find the bastard to hurt her before he hurts anyone else. _He tilted his head towards the glass. "Well?"

"Says he saw the perp take McNally down and run out of the parking lot headed North. He's first aid trained so he jumped in to help…" Jerry trailed off awkwardly.

"Damn it!" Sam punched his fist against the wall, drawing blood from three of his knuckles.

"You made a mistake, it happens."

Sam shook his head and sighed. "I should have waited for backup." He covered his face with his hands and groaned. "God Damn it!" His head was spinning and the continuous waves of guilt for leaving his partner alone at the hospital, even if she wouldn't know she was alone, weren't helping. His desire to return to the hospital warred with his need to find and catch the man who'd stabbed her. He didn't know what to do.

"Boyko's pissed." Jerry said, leaning his back against the glass. "You should probably get in there."

With a growl of frustration, Sam turned to follow his friend's advice. Staff Sergeant Boyko was a good man and a good cop, but he didn't look kindly on mistakes. Especially not mistakes that made the division look bad, or mistakes that got another cop injured or killed.

Boyko was on the phone when Sam knocked twice at the door. Sam waited a moment for the man to acknowledge his presence, and entered the office.

"Take a seat." Boyko said, setting his phone back on its cradle.

"Thank you sir, but I'll stand."

Boyko nodded. "That was Tommy McNally. Office McNally is still in surgery."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. She wasn't alone, that was good. She'd been in surgery for two hours, he wasn't sure what to make of that but it set his stomach churning. "It should never have happened."

"You're telling me." Boyko fixed Sam with a stern gaze. "What the hell happened in there?"

"I dunno." Sam began to pace, "I – uh – I had the guy, green t-shirt, red hair, five eleven, hundred and eighty pounds. He bolted. And, uh, hext thing I know McNally is screaming and there's a guy pinning her to the ground." He ran both hands through his still-damp black hair. "Damn it. I don't know how it happened. .." He turned away from the Staff Sergeant and contained the urge to smash the floor to ceiling glass wall.

"Get yourself together, Swarek." Boyko's voice was sharp. "Maybe you've been out on the street too long, forgotten some of the basics. Even if you had the right guy, we don't sucker punch criminals in this division."

"I know." He turned back to his boss, "I'm sorry."

"We're all worried about McNally," Boyko's voice was softer. "But that's the job. Go to the hospital, see your partner and then go home. I don't want to see you here for the rest of the week."

Knowing there was no point in arguing with the Staff Sergeant, Sam nodded. "Thank you, sir. Let me know if there is anything I can do."

Sam walked slowly to the parking lot, avoiding eye contact with everyone. He called the hospital for an update once he was outside and after being assured his partner was still in surgery not lying dead in the morgue, he climbed into his cruiser.

Sam drove his squad car to the hospital and swung it into a priority stall in the parkade across the street. It wasn't exactly by the book, but he was damned if he was going to waste time dealing with parking meters today. He followed the signs to reception and was directed to the third floor waiting area.

He rested his head against the elevator wall as it rose from the lobby to the third floor. His stomach was tight with anxiety. He'd never liked hospitals. Today was just another reason to hate their antiseptic smell and too bright white halls. He thought he might be sick again when the elevator doors slid open and he saw who was sitting in the waiting room.

Andy's father sat alone in a row of ten teal chairs. His eyes were closed but his posture was too tense for him to be sleeping.

"Mr. McNally," Sam spoke softly from several feet away.

"Sam Swarek." Tommy McNally's voice was rough and tired. "Take a seat."

Sam sat one seat separate from his partner's father. "Any word?"

Tommy shook his head. "Still in surgery."

"God, I am.." Sam sighed, "I am so sorry, sir."

"Not your fault," Tommy replied, patting the younger man's knee awkwardly. "I've been there. Sometimes things go sideways. You got her here alive, that's all I could ask."

_Sometimes things go sideways._ Sam shook his head. It wasn't long ago he had said those exact words to Andy. If only he'd known then how true they would be, he might have given her better advice.

"Mr. McNally?" A grey haired doctor in scrubs and a white lab coat came to stand in front of them.

"That's me," Tommy said, rising to his feet.

"Your daughter is stable and out of surgery. She was lucky, the knife missed her spleen and we were able to repair the damage to her kidney in surgery. She's still in recovery right now, but you can wait in her room if you like."

"Thank you." Tommy shook the doctor's hand.

"Andy will be in room 415. One floor up, east wing. Talk to the nurses at the nurses' station by the elevator if you need me."

Sam let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding since the doctor arrived. She was alive. She was out of surgery. For the first time in hours he took a long deep breath.

A/N: One more chapter and a epilogue to come. Should all be posted wednesday at the latest. Thank you to everyone who has read and left comments! I greatly appreciate the kind words of encouragement for my first RB fic.


	6. Chapter 5

"I'm going to get a coffee, you want anything?" Tommy asked. They'd been sitting in room 415 for forty minutes with no word on when Andy would be moved there.

"Nah," Sam got to his feet, "Why don't you stay here, in case they bring her. I'll go."

"You just hang tight. I need the air."Tommy said, stepping out into the hall and leaving Sam alone.

Sam sent a text message to Jerry and received a terse reply that they had the surveillance videos but no they hadn't yet managed to ID the man. He sighed and let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud. It had been a hell of a day. Hard to believe it was barely three in the afternoon. The Doctor had not been back since directing them to this room and every time he heard a gurney or IV stand rattle its way down the hall his heart sped up for a moment in hopes it was her.

He'd jumped with false hope so many times the gurney was halfway into the room when he realized they really were wheeling McNally in. Her skin was white, an IV stuck out of her right elbow and an oxygen cannula in her nose. The nurse immediately set to work hooking up a heart and respiration monitor.

"She's stable." The nurse told Sam as she bustled about the room setting everything to rights, "She was awake for a few minutes when the anaesthesia wore off, but she's on some heavy pain medication."

Sam nodded. His throat too tight to speak. She looked so young and so vulnerable.

The nurse patted him on the shoulder. "We're just down the hall. You let us know if there's anything you need."

"Thank you," he choked the words past the lump in his throat.

"Talk to her," the nurse said, issuing a final pat on his shoulder. "It helps."

As soon as she left the room Sam took her advice. He slid his chair up to the edge of her bed and took her left hand in his. "It was never supposed to be you." His voice was thick with poorly concealed emotion and he was glad there was no one around to hear. "I – uh," he let his gaze linger on her face, "I care what happens to you, you know."

He laughed at himself. Words were not Sam's strong suit. His thumb traced circles across the back of her hand. Yes he cared what happened to McNally, probably more than he had any right to care. But she clearly did not feel the same way.

He released his grasp on her hand and reached for his phone. As much as he disliked Luke Callaghan, the detective was the man Andy had chosen. He was flipping through his contact list for Callaghan's cell number when Andy's scratchy voice stopped him.

"Sam?"

"Right here, McNally." He reached for her hand again, squeezing it as he leaned over until he was easily in her field of vision.

"Wha-?" Her voice cracked.

He picked up a cup of water the nurse had left on the table with his free hand and held it to her lips. "Drink."

She sipped obediently. When she spoke again her voice was soft, but clear. "What happened?"

"You – ah… you tried to stop an armed robber twice your size by throwing your body in from of him."

She half heartedly rolled her eyes, "Duh. What happened after?"

Sam swallowed, "We got you to the hospital... and uh… brought in witnesses for questioning."

"He got away?"

Sam heard disappointment in her tone and looked down at their hands, "Yeah."

"Are you ok?"

Sam's eyes flew to her face. Her forehead was creased with worry as she waited for his response. "Never better," he said, his attempt at a light tone falling flat.

"It's not your fault," she told him, squeezing his hand. "Sometime things go sideways."

He tried to smile and failed. "It is my fault." His voice was heavily weighted with guilt. "He never should have been near you. But… I uh... I slipped."

She looked at him and no words were needed for a moment. Her warm eyes told him he was being an idiot and that she didn't blame him one bit for her current predicament. For several moments he let the warmth of her gaze envelope him. All too soon he saw a telltale tightening at the corners of her mouth, the morphine was wearing off and pain was returning.

He handed her the push button for her morphine drip and sat silently with her until she drifted back to sleep. Once she was asleep he went in search of Mr. McNally.

He didn't have to go far. Andy's father sat on a hard backed chair right outside his daughter's room, a large cup of coffee in his hands.

"Mr. McNally?"

The older man looked up with a small smile on his face. "You take good care of my girl, Swarek." It was one part command and one part commentary.

"I do my best, sir." Sam answered

"Good."

'She's asleep, but she'll want to see you."

"She doesn't really want me here." Mr. McNally said with a grimace. "I'm an embarrassment."

Sam wasn't sure how to respond. He took a chair, fixing his eyes on the white wall across from them. "She loves you."

"I know. Not that I deserve it."

Sam nodded. "Does anyone really deserve it?"

Tommy laughed." Guess not."

They were silent for a moment, each lost in thought.

"What do you know about Detective Callaghan?" Tommy asked.

"Good cop." Sam replied. "Solid guy."

"Womaniser?"

Sam let his silence speak for him for several moments before finally saying. "Serial monogamist."

"That's what I thought." Tommy shook his head. "I love my daughter, but she has terrible taste in men. Present company excluded, of course.

Sam chuckled. "So, uh, I should take her blowing me off is a compliment?"

"Something like that."

"Someone should be in there with her when she wakes up," Sam said, tilting his head toward the open door to Andy's room.

"You go ahead. I'm going to get a refill."

Sam chose not to comment on the fact that the man's coffee cup was still over half full. "I'll tell her you're here."

"Thanks."

Sam settled back in his place by Andy's side and watched her sleep. His phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the display. One new text. With a few button presses the new message was displayed on the screen.

_We got him Sammy. Both wits picked him from a line up. He's locked up, bail hearing isn't until Friday. _

He smiled and sent a quick thanks to Jerry before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

Sam took Andy's hand in his. "They got him, Andy." He told her, softly. "He's not going to hurt anyone else."

When Tommy McNally stepped into his daughter's room fifteen minutes later he found Sam sound asleep in the bedside chair, one hand holding on to Andy's like a lifeline.


	7. Epilogue

"Looking good McNally." Sam called to her from the other side of the parking lot.

Andy smiled and turned in his direction. She wasn't quite back to normal, though the stitches had been out for three weeks. She was back at work, the last two weeks in a strictly desk monkey capacity.

Sam had been reinstated with a severe warning. Probation was a bitch. He'd been flying solo while McNally recovered at home. Today was the first day they were working together since the incident one month earlier.

"Coffee?" he offered her the steaming hot beverage; extra hot, extra milk, no sugar.

"Thank you." She sipped tentatively and then took a longer gulp once she was sure it was just how she liked it.

"Timbit?" He asked, holding up the cardboard box of doughnut holes.

"Careful, someone might get the impression you _wanted_ a partner." She teased even as she snagged two chocolate Timbits and loaded them into her mouth.

The smell of her shampoo, like almond, filled his nostrils and his heart raced. He'd visited her every day she was in the hospital, but when she'd been released he hadn't felt right visiting her at home. Not even when he learned third hand through Jerry Barber that she had broken up with Callaghan. He wanted her, as a friend, as a partner, as so much more than that... but he would be damned if he was going to take advantage of her vulnerability.

He held up his keys as an offering. "You driving?"

Andy grinned. "I believe you owe me a few days behind the wheel."

"You're not wrong." It was so good to see her smile and laugh. He knew she still couldn't run at full speed and that she got tired easily, but he was elated to be able to take her away from the station for even a half day. As much as he hated to admit it, he had missed having a partner these last three weeks.

Andy pulled the police car out into traffic and cruised at exactly the speed limit. This time she joined him in laughter at the line of cars they built up behind them after just a few blocks.

"1505, we've got a noise complaint at 313 Sherbourne Street."

Sam threw a quick glance at Andy's profile. Her jaw tensed but otherwise she looked calm. "1505, 10-4 we're on our way."

Andy made a right turn onto Gerrard and headed south west to Sherbourne. It was not lost on either of them that this call was only a block north of the Sam's Foods where Andy had been stabbed.

Sam turned in his seat so he could watch her face. "You ok?"

"Fine, sir." She answered without taking her eyes off the road. Her knuckles were white from the tight grips she kept on the steering wheel. Her shoulders raised and fell with every shallow breath.

They pulled up in front of 313. A two story home covered in peeling baby blue paint. He could hear the banging and crashing before he opened his door. The neighbour who had called the police stood on the sidewalk twisting her hands and periodically casting panicked glances at the house behind her.

"McNally, take the neighbour's statement while I check it out." Sam ordered as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The fact that she didn't protest told him he'd made the right decision.

Sam kept one hand on his gun as he walked up the front walk. He banged twice on the front door and hollered loudly enough to be heard over the noise inside, "Police! Open up."

The noise stopped and he heard the clatter of feet on the stairs and then the door flew open. A young boy, maybe eight years old, stared up at him with wide blue eyes.

Sam stooped down so he was on eye level with the kid. "Hey, buddy," he kept his voice light; it never helped to scare a kid when you wanted information, "That sure was a lot of noise. Everything ok?"

The boy nodded.

"Are mommy or daddy here?"

The boy nodded and then, before Sam had a chance to say anything, ran back into the house, up the stairs and out of sight.

Sam leaned his back against the door frame and cast a quick look out to the street. Andy was in earnest conversation with the neighbour. She looked better, the tension that had flooded her body when dispatch sent them here had eased. She looked like her old self, leaning a little towards the older woman, jotting down notes on her notepad. He smiled at her when she glanced his way and then turned back to the house.

Twenty minutes later the homeowner promised to keep the noise down and they were on their way back to the barn. They didn't speak on the drive and went their separate ways once they returned to the station. He left McNally to do the paperwork while he checked in with Boyko about her first day back on the streets.

"How'd she do?" Boyko asked.

"She's ready." Sam said, taking a seat across from the Staff Sergeant. "Noise complaint on Sherbourne." He watched Boyko's face for any hint that the call had been routed their way for more reasons than just proximity.

Boyko's face gave away nothing. "Thanks for checking in. Tell McNally she's back in the rotation starting tomorrow."

Sam caught up to Andy in the parking lot. She's changed out of her uniform and into jeans and a simple white tank top.

"Good job today," he said, matching her stride for stride.

"I didn't do anything." She sounded frustrated.

"You passed Boyko's test. You're back on the streets starting tomorrow."

She stopped dead and turned the full power of her grin on him, "Really?"

He nodded. "Need a lift?"

She shook her head no and Sam fought back a wave of disappointment.

"Doctor says I should walk when possible, build up my strength." She gestured in the general direction of the street, "Walk me home?"

"Sure."

They talked about nothing particular until they stood before her building. Sam lingered, not wanting to let her go, but having no reason to stay.

"See you tomorrow?" She phrased it as a question, and held out her hand.

His mind flashed to the last time they'd shaken hands. This time he didn't hesitate to take her hand in his. "Tomorrow," he confirmed, taking a step towards her, their hands still clasped. "It is good to have you back, McNally." He said softly.

She met his eyes, and smiled warmly. "It's good to be back."

He wished he could draw her to him, press his lips to hers. Instead, he dropped her hand and took a step back, allowing the cool evening air to fill the space between them.

One day, maybe. But today was not that day.

***The End***

A/N: Thank you everyone who read and reviewed!


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